Changes
by onmyside
Summary: The house changes, the people in it are changing too. After Matthew's death Carson and Hughes realize that they cannot go on like they used to forever. (Mainly Carson/Hughes but other characters appear as well)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I did it. I wrote something. Two weeks after Matthew's death they all still deal with the loss - one way or another. The house is changing, the people in it are changing. Mostly Carson/Hughes but other characters will help them on this journey.**

Changes - chapter 01

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The house is dark now, sleeping. Not peacefully though, not for a long time to come. After all that has happened in the last two weeks he is certain that they will not hear laughter, see them smile or entertain guests for a few months. Too tragic is the loss, too fresh the wounds. It will take a lot of effort and time for them to heal. If they ever heal. From the outside, yes, perhaps, but inside? He does not think so. There will always be the little boy as a reminder of what she has lost.

With a deep sigh that seems to come from some place within his body he did not know exists, somewhere close to his heart, he turns the large iron key inside the front door look three times. The heavy door creaks and squeaks, a small protest. He tucks the massive key away inside the pocket of his tailcoat but it sticks out a bit, like an open fracture, a broken bone that has penetrated the skin. The image is gruesome and he shakes his head vigorously to make it disappear. But there is some truth in it. The house is slowly dying. First Lady Sybil, now Mr Crawley. Both lost too early, before their time, too young to leave this world. He sighs again, rubs his temples with thumb and index finger. He has to stop thinking about it, stop conjuring up images like these.

Charles picks up the hand lamp, turns away from the front door, silently walks across the large hall, his footfall muffled by the thick carpets. He looks up to the gallery. The lights are out, all doors closed. Behind them they are trying to fall asleep, trying to avoid the nightmares and the worries, the silent tears. Another thought he has to banish immediately.

He has reached the door to the downstairs quarters, which is hidden from view underneath the large central staircase. He takes the steps one by one, slowly descending to a place that is still the same after all the drama upstairs. They haven't lost someone this time, they go on as usual, albeit their faces are also sorrowful and glum. The lively chatter, so inseparably connected with the kitchen and the servant's hall, is subdued nowadays. But they carry on. It is not the first master they have lost (although this is only true for him, Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore, but still).

The hand lamp guides him the way to his pantry, now dark and cold, the fire long extinguished. He stores the key away and closes the two open ledgers that lie on his desk. His working day is finally over, he has managed to come through it once more without suffering a breakdown. Sometimes he thinks that is has been enough now, that he should hand over his life's work to some one else. The world is not the same any more; the house has changed so much. Only a few constants have survived but he is slowly losing those too. From next door, her room, he can hear how the legs of a chair scrape across the floor. She is still up, one of his constants, the most reliable and precious one. And he sighs a third time, because Mrs Hughes is waiting for him again, has done so every night since they had the news. She stays up longer than usual to wish him good night, see him up the stairs until they part for their separate bedrooms. Tonight won't be any different.

Charles cannot deny it that he enjoys finishing the day together with her but it also pains him to see her suffer for and with him. He does not want to be a burden. At the same time he is not able to stop her. She has always cared for him, took charge when he was not well, nursed him back to health. He extinguishes the lamp and closes the door to his pantry before he walks the few steps down the corridor towards her sitting room. One short knock and the door is opened from the inside. She must have heard him too.

"You're up late again," he scolds but with a warm smile on his face. "You don't have to wait for me, Mrs Hughes."

She touches his arm, lets her hand linger for a moment as if to make sure he is really there and not just an illusion. "But I want to. You shouldn't be the only one up after everyone else has gone to bed. Some one has to take care of you just like you take care of the house. Allow me to do that for you."

They exchange the same words, not exactly but similar, every night. What is new, is her hand on his arm. The warmth of her fingers, that seem to penetrate the fabric of his sleeve and shirt right down to his skin. And for the first time in two weeks his answer to her plea is different. "I'd like that very much."

#xxx#

She cannot hide her smile any longer, or let go of his arm. He has finally agreed to her offer. She has been so worried, for weeks! Ever since the day they had gotten the message from Dr Clarkson. First he had been happy, overwhelmed, like a father or better, grandfather. A new born child, a son, an heir! His precious Lady Mary was all right, the wee babe strong and healthy. Then, an hour later, his world shattered when the second phone call from the hospital came in. Elsie had found him in his pantry, standing there with the receiver still in his hand, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

Dead, Mr Crawley was dead. She had wanted to hold him, comfort him, and stroke his back soothingly, like she did with her homesick housemaids and lovestruck footmen. But she could not cross that line. So she starts to be there for him, in a way he cannot avoid her, cannot complain about that she is breaking the rules and acting against all propriety. She stays up late because of him. Makes sure he goes to bed after he has finished his rounds. He is tired, more than ever before (he would never admit it). But Elsie can see it, in his eyes, his steps are slower, the back is not as straight as usual, his shoulders are sagged.

Carson stands in front of her now, a smile on his lips and her hand on his arm. It is the closest thing to an embrace for them. Perhaps the day will come when they allow this to happen. For now, this is enough.

"Come then, let's go to bed, find some sleep." She ushers him out of her room, turns off the electric light and closes the door behind them. Her hand is still on his arm and she startles a bit when she feels one of his strong hands over it and give it a gentle squeeze. Yet they let go as soon as they reach the stairs. He walks behind her, while Elsie leads the way. The house is dark around them, almost no sounds are audible. Creaking steps, her heels on the stone floor between staircases, his breath, the rustle of her skirt. They pass the backstairs of the first floor, behind the nursery where two children sleep now. Children that will grow up without a father and a mother, one parent is missing for both of them, forever.

She stops when the thought hits her and he must have realized the same, for he catches up but does not walk on. Instead he stays close behind her, their bodies almost touching. His front and her back, their hands rest inches apart on the railing. Elsie holds her breath, listens for any sounds, but the children are quiet and he is too. When she exhales, so does Carson, in unison with her. They should walk on, climb the last two stairs to their bedrooms, but she cannot move, is rooted to the spot, does not want to ruin this moment which suddenly has turned into something wonderful instead of being a reminder of what they have lost (Mr Crawley, Lady Sybil. Too young). She has completely forgotten about the children, it is only the two of them now.

He takes another step, obviously thought she was about to move on. His hand covers hers and his back is pressed against her. He is so warm and solid, feels so perfect against her. Elsie wants to stay like this forever but knows they can't. They are only out of sync for a split second before she extracts her hand and steps away with a sigh. The moment is over, the chance they had lost, but not entirely wasted.

A few minutes later they have to part for the night. "Sleep well." She does not touch him again. It has been enough for one evening. What she offers him is a smile instead. "Don't worry too much", she adds.

"I'll try. Good night." He turns around and leaves her standing there on the landing in the darkness.

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_Thank you for reading. TBC. It would be very kind and helpful if you could leave a review. (and a PM if there are any horrible typos!)_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N Thank you for your wonderful reviews! 3 I will reply to them shortly. I hope I have not kept you waiting for an update too long. Enjoy chapter 02. As always: characters not mine, no copyright infringement intended. _

Changes - chapter 02

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Isobel Crawley is not the same woman anymore. Her face looks grey, her eyes have lost their shine, new thin lines have formed around her lips.

Elsie had never looked closely at Mrs Crawley before but even she can see the difference between the energetic, lively, optimistic person she once was and the sad, lonely woman she is now.

Lord Grantham has invited her over for dinner, obviously hoping she would enjoy the company, be glad to leave Crawley house. She inhabits the house alone now as far as Elsie knows. There is no cook, no housemaids, no butler anymore. Dr Clarkson is around sometimes, but the loneliness must be unbearable. Still, a dinner party at the big house is not what Mrs Crawley wants or needs, Elsie can feel it, she knows it. All this woman wants is to be left alone with her grief for a while longer until she feels ready being in company again. Of course Elsie has never experienced exactly the same sadness and loss but she is a woman and the housemaids, footmen and hallboys are like her children. Despite her professionalism and perfectionism she cannot stop feeling protective for them. She does not fuss much or pat shoulders, is not a person who touches people a lot to show she cares. When her girls are sick and lonely they receive an encouraging, sympathetic smile as well as some nice words and maybe are granted an afternoon off. And Elsie knows that they are grateful for it. It helps them more than a motherly hug and a cup of hot cocoa because she takes them seriously, treats them like responsible adults. Only two of them have ever discovered her softer side: Anna and William. They are, _they were, _she reminds herself thinking of William, more than just workers for her. She allowed herself to be motherly around them, including wiping away tears, providing soothing embraces and hot cups of tea with sugar.

Yes, she knows how Mrs Crawley feels because she has lost William. An unnecessary death, just like Mr Crawley's.

Elsie observes the older woman from afar, hidden behind the folding-screen in the large dining room where she should not be at this moment. After all, serving meals is his domain, not hers. He instructs the footmen, he knows who to serve first, which wine is perfect for each course. She prepares the rough bits of each meal, he executes it with style and show. But the other night, he had agreed to let her help him and she has decided to extend this offer a bit. So she is around whenever she finds the time, not only in the evenings anymore. He won't like it but so far he has not noticed that she has followed his every step today.

From her place at the table Mrs Crawley catches her eye suddenly and smiles at her. Elsie takes a step back, does not want to be seen. Before she disappears she nods her head, tells the woman at the table that she has seen her. A returned smile signals that Elsie knows how miserable Mrs Crawley feels.

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The conversation during dinner is reduced to a minimum. Lady Mary has not said a single word, does not even look up from her plate. They have all tried to talk about pleasant things, avoided the inevitable mentioning of the baby, Lady Mary's health and the well meant "are you all right's". Isobel Crawley, he notices, smiles occasionally but her eyes never light up. Only the corners of her mouth move. Nothing else.

When he offers her a second glass of wine, she declines politely and he sees her face up close for the first time that evening. Her eyes are red-rimmed; dark circles cover the skin below them. He cannot help but smile sadly at her, a smile that says "I understand, I know."

Where she has lost her son, he has lost a daughter, a surrogate one, but nevertheless. Lady Mary does not speak to anyone these days, stays in her room or in the nursery almost twenty-four hours, only comes down for dinner, not even for lunch or breakfast. He has tried to comfort her, served her the favourite cake prepared especially for her by Mrs Patmore. He has talked to Lady Grantham, offered to help with the child, suggested a holiday in London perhaps, or Scotland. He is willing to do everything if only it helps Lady Mary to let go of the dark thoughts and make her smile again. But Cora had only shaken her head, touched his shoulder and told him that he should not worry so much and that they will find a way.

One last round of drinks is offered and Mrs Crawley indicates again that she does not need a refill. Charles steps back, leaves her alone but he cannot help and notice that she smiles a moment later at something in the distance, behind the folding-screen. He does not see her standing there but knows without doubt that she has observed them, _him, _during dinner all night. He does not know what to think of it, if he should be angry or touched by her caring. Charles is too exhausted, physically and emotionally, right now to scold her, tell her that he does not need her fussing over him all day.

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It is another dark night, like the last one. Everyone has gone up to find a bit of rest, some peace in the quietness of the attic. Elsie waits for him in her sitting room. The fifteenth night in a row, sipping a late cup of tea with too much sugar in it. She waits for the click of his door when he shuts it, for the sound of his footsteps on the stone corridor. But it stays silent for too long. A look at the clock on the mantelpiece tells her that he has not kept to his routine tonight, has broken the order of this meticulously planned daily tasks. He should be downstairs by now, finished with his rounds and everything else. Something is wrong. She can feel it. Elsie knows him too well to shrug his lateness off as a normal thing that happens when you are too caught up in your own thoughts like he is right now.

Perhaps he has noticed her in the dining room and is angry with her, does not want to talk to her tonight. But then, he has agreed to let her help him, has gladly allowed her to take care of him. And he does not make promises like these only to break them after merely a day. Another thing that strikes her as odd, that is so unlike him.

Elsie forgets about the tea, leaves her room, checks his pantry. It is empty, dark and cold. He has not been in there lately, not taken his time to go over the books once more as is his habit in the evenings. She searches for him in the servant's hall, the kitchen, even the linen cupboard, which she often uses as a place to hide, calm down when the day is rough. He is not down here. Nowhere.

Slowly she makes her way upstairs, remembers how they had climbed the stairs together the night before. He cannot simply change his mind after that! But she does not know what to do now. Going to bed is out of the question, searching the whole house, too.

When she arrives at her side of the servant's quarters it does not take her long to make her decision. She takes the key, which unlocks the dividing door, from its hook and enters the only part of the house she is not really familiar with. She has never cleaned these rooms, does not know who occupies which one. Elsie is only sure of one thing: his room is the one right behind the door. She knocks twice but no one answers. Maybe she should just leave, forget the worry that has taken hold of her heart, ignore the fear that is slowly settling down. She can't! It's impossible! Her hand turns the doorknob, opens the door a crack. She peeks inside the room and has never felt so relieved in her life when she sees him sitting there at his desk, head supported by his hands, staring down at an open book.

"Mr Carson?" Her voice is soft, almost lovingly.

He startles when he hears his name spoken, looks directly into her eyes. "I was worried when I didn't see you downstairs. Is everything all right?"

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_uhoh... what happens next? (I don't know tbh) I would be happy (haha, I SQUEE at every review) for reviews._

_TBC._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N THANK YOOUUUUU! Have a quick update for you. Not a good one (too many "nows" and "That's" and "Somethings" and "times" :D) but I promise that the next one will be better._

Changes - Chapter 03

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He needs to be alone for a while to sort his thoughts, to forget his worries. Mrs Crawley has reminded him of so many things he had successfully buried deep inside his heart since Mr Matthew's death. And Mrs Hughes is not helping him tonight with her constant presence. Unlike yesterday where he needed her, she won't understand why he cannot be in her company after this dinner is over.

Nothing will ever be the same in this house anymore. The changes that had occurred are permanent, irretrievable, final. As much as he tries to help Lady Mary through these difficult times, he knows that he can only show her a new, a different aspect of her life. Not the one she has lost. And right now this is not what this young woman wants.

She won't understand this, his devotion for someone else's daughter, why this is so painful for him. And he cannot explain it sufficiently, especially not tonight, where he is too overwhelmed by his own conflicting emotions. Should he tell her that he does not mind her staying up late to wait for him any more, but that there is no need to watch every single step he takes throughout the day? He wants her to know this but he also likes their new closeness. To avoid another confrontation he decides to call it an early night, hands over some of his duties to Thomas (that's what an underbutler is good for) and does not return to his pantry after dinner. She won't mind, has surely other things she has to take care of, more important ones than watch over him.

On his way to his room he feels guilty nevertheless. He should have informed her, say goodnight at least, leave a message on her desk. Mrs Hughes knows that he never leaves so early for the night. But then the exhaustion and a growing headache make him forget about all of this again. He needs to be alone and think, make plans for the next days, find out how to deal with his grief, does not want to be paralysed by it.

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The book is a gift from her. Two Christmases ago she had given it to him, nicely wrapped in red paper, decorated with a shiny red ribbon. They usually gave each other practical things, some new ink, a pen, a handkerchief. But she had read this particular book (Dracula, Bram Stoker, Horror) and wanted to share it with him. Charles does not know why he chose it tonight to find distraction. First of all the story itself is not really a happy one and then it only reminds him of her and the fact that she might indeed worry and be still up, waiting for him. He reads the passage he has open in front of him, again and again, stares at the sentences that do not make any sense to him. He rubs his forehead, gives it another try, unsuccessfully. His thoughts drift off once more to that moment when she had touched his arm yesterday. Such a small gesture, others exchange it without even noticing it. But for them this is a novelty, a thing he has longed for so many years. That they feel confident enough to share these small intimacies is almost a miracle, he thinks and for a split second there is a smile on his face and the words in his open book have a meaning again.

Suddenly his door is opened and he finds himself staring at her worried face, hears her ask a question directed at him. He assumes she has asked if he is all right, because he only sees her lips move, got distracted by that and her eyes, did not understand the question. How did she find him? Why is she in his room at this time of night when all around them the others might still be awake, hear them talk, hear her voice.

Charles does not answer her question, instead he gets up quickly, pushes her away from the door to make room for it to be closed again. She is now standing next to his empty chair, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, something he has come to find adorable somehow. It is only distracting him further.

"Are you all right?" she repeats her earlier question.

"Yes, yes, I think I am." Because the truth is: he does not know right now. He had not really found the time to think, to forget, to figure out things. Neither about them nor about the future of this house. Nothing he has worried about has been solved. There was always her on his mind and now she is here in this room, at night.

"I was worried about you." She had said that too, earlier, he remembers now. "It is not like you do go up without saying good night." She fills the silence, that has never been a problem between them but is awkward now, with words, is clearly as lost as he is, unprepared for this whole situation.

"You were there during dinner." He makes a start, knows that hits might not be the conversation she has expected but it is the only thing he can think of.

Her eyes focus on the floor suddenly and her voice is small, so different from what he is used to hear from her. "There was no need, I know." She stands only a few steps away from him and he can hardly understand her It is only logical to close the distance between them.

###

Whatever has made her knock on his door tonight, enter his room and stand in the middle of it, lost for words, clearly had not considered the sudden nervousness that overcomes her when he steps closer. There is no real conversation between them and she should have left the moment she had seen him sitting in that chair, reading his book. He clearly is fine, there is no need to worry anymore. He is not even angry, only wants to know what she is doing here. Surely she can answer this simple question. After all, it is Mr Carson, not a stranger standing in front of her. There is no reason to be afraid, or feel uneasy. But her knees are weak, her voice is gone and she cannot look up and into his face. It is silly, really. Why have her strength and confidence abandoned her?

"Perhaps there was." He is so close now. "I was angry at first but then I remembered what we had agreed upon yesterday."

There is clearly a smile on his face now. She can hear it and dares to look up. The kind eyes are warm and there is no anger in them, curiosity maybe, a bit of sadness perhaps. "I could not help myself. I needed to make sure you're fine."

His hand reaches out and touches her shoulder. "I am. As fine as I can be at the moment."

This is an honest answer and she knows what he means by it, at least she assumes she does. "Life goes on, you know, We've all lost someone along the way and yet here we are, still living our lives." Elsie swallows hard.

"But there will always be a part missing. Nothing will be the same any more." His hand moves down her arm, rests on her elbow now.

Elsie can only whisper an answer. "Sometimes we are able to replace the missing part, although it will hurt in the beginning and feel not right." Being so close to him is frightening and exciting at the same time. She is not sure what is happening between them. They have never talked about any of this, feelings, loss, sadness, their own emotions. It is always about the house, the family upstairs, their family downstairs. Except once. A melody plays in her head, accompanied by his deep voice, the song familiar, something she will remember forever.

"Will you help me?" This time it is her who startles at the sound of his voice.

"Always." She has offered it after all and he has agreed. Now they are taking another step it seems. One she has not seen coming.

His hand rests above her wrist, travels down further, parts her fingers, entwines them with his own.

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_TBC_

_(sorry for the ending but I had to stop here)_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N you are WONDERFUL PEOPLE! _

_I've written this chapter after a night on a couch that was too short. I was tired and I was on a train. So please excuse the crappy ending :). Enjoy reading and hopefully this all makes still sense._

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Changes - Chapter 04

They remain like this, close, connected, for a while. His warm fingers encase her smaller hand tenderly, like a precious piece of expensive china, a thing that breaks easily if you do not take good care of it. His thumb brushes her knuckles, so soft, almost on its own accord. She tries not to stare at him, not to memorize very single line around his eyes, mouth, the small dimples. His face tells so many stories, is like a book to her and right now, she has started another chapter by coming to his room for no important reason (he is not ill, has not suffered from a heart attack, is not dying) other than to look after him, to comfort him and to be comforted.

He looks away suddenly, slowly removes his hand, touches her arm once again briefly before his eyes find hers again. "We cannot stay like this all night." He whispers as an explanation. "It would not be right?" As an afterthought, though she can see in his eyes that he says this more to himself than to her. Of course it would not be proper to spend time in a man's bedroom at night. Neither at Downton nor anywhere else when you are not married, or engaged, only friends. But she is here now, cannot turn back time. And she does not want to, has made this decision without having doubts or second thoughts.

"Times are changing." She offers, her explanation, one that he knows already, has considered most probably but is too afraid to admit. Valet and lady's maid are married, kitchen maid and second footman were married, Lady Sybil has found love in a different class, married a servant. "We've changed." Another try to tell him that no one will judge him should she stay a while longer, an hour, a few more, the whole night. To prove her point, her hand touches his cheek, She has never done that before, never crossed that line. It is the most intimate thing to her.

Charles is startled, looks up, eyes open wide. His lips part, he starts to say something but instead he takes a deep breath, almost sighs, and closes his eyes again. He does not turn away from her touch. "I know."

The melody is back in her head, his wonderful singing voice, the deep baritone she has never heard in such a manner. He had sung for her, about her, out of joy. And, she is sure of it now, out of love. Elsie does not want to waste another chance, not a second time, knows that they are lost at the moment, vulnerable, not locked inside their self-imposed prisons. The one's they have created over the years to protect them from their own emotions. They are both able to care about others, to help them, show them their sympathy and understanding. She has no problems any more to touch a shoulder, pat a back, show her girls with small gestures that she cares. It is different with him, always has been. Although she has tried to be close to him, managed to deepen their friendship over time. They are both afraid of what might happen if they open the doors to their hearts too wide.

"There is nothing wrong with this." Elsie means her hand on his face and that she steps closer. "I don't want you to be hurt anymore." That is what she really wanted to say yesterday. It is not simply worry that makes her want to care for him, she needs to take it all away, free him from his grief and, if that is even possible, share it. She cannot see him hurt, sad, lonely when she is there right in front of him and can offer him a solution.

Elsie feels the need to say more, tell him what is in her heart, has been there for so many years, locked and safely stored away, yet ready to be exposed one day. This day is now. It is the first chance she got since that day she has heard him sing for her. The first moment they are alone together without the risk of someone else disturbing them.

"I want…", she starts but it silenced immediately by the tip of his index finger on her lips. She stares at him, tries to find an answer for this unexpected behaviour in his eyes, wants to know why she is not allowed to continue. The only thing she sees in his face is an expression she has never noticed before and it sends a shiver done her spine.

"I know." She believes him, knows that he had been able to read her mind this one time when it was most important. He confirms it by removing his finger and replacing it with his lips, so soft, so warm.

###

Did he take advantage of the situation? Was it wrong of him to not listen to her and do something unexpected, unplanned, non-characteristic instead? ON a normal day in a world that had never seen this war, where the old rules still apply, he would have told her to leave his room, that they would talk in the morning and he had to sleep now.

Times have changed, she is right about that, like she so often is. He has to admit this although he finds this difficult and confusing. Surprisingly, kissing her has not been difficult at all. He had been so fascinated by the softness of her voice and hand, had completely forgotten where he was. He wakes from this dream when his lips leave hers. Suddenly he feels hot and cold at the same time, his hands are shaking and his courage is gone. Is there a smile on her lips or does she mock him? Has he misinterpreted her words? Misread the sparkle in her eyes?

They have known each other for twenty years, can sometimes read the other's mind but only were work, the house, the other servants are concerned. Charles has never trusted his instincts enough when it came to her feelings for him. He knows that they are friends, of course, has often done things for her before she had the chance to indicate that she wants or needs them. Like offering her a cup of tea after a trying day, or finishing his rounds at the door to her sitting room to wish her a good night. Those are small, loving gestures and routines they rely on and he enjoys sharing these moments with her.

The smile is still there, has reached her eyes too, those wonderful blue eyes he sometimes gets lost in. Charles desperately tries to stay focused, does not want to get trapped in this dream again in case he has hurt her, made a fool of himself, has ruined their friendship. Kissing her surely was not what she meant when she offered to look after him, help him to find a way out of his grief.

"Do you want me to leave?" Was it her voice? Or did he imagine it? Should she leave? Isn't it too late for this already?

"Mr Carson? Charles?" It is the unfamiliar sound of his given name from her lips that wakes him.

"No, stay. Please. For a moment longer. If you want." To talk, to find out what all of this means. He needs to know what kind of relationship they are in now.

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TBC

(and yes, this was too short. But I was (am) tired and you don't want to know what this looked liked before I typed it... English/German mashup)


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N I can't thank you enough for the wonderful reviews! They all really make my day and they help me a lot. As always: Characters aren't mine. _

_A/N2: T-ness in this chapter! (I am a bit uncomfortable with this because I've never written something like this before)_

_THIS chapter is for the wonderful kouw! Thank you darling for helping me get through a rough time 3_

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Changes - Chapter 05

She takes a seat in the armchair next to his bed and for the first time in many years he does not know how to handle this situation, which is so unfamiliar to him. He always has a plan for everything, a routine, a tradition he can rely on, solutions written down in his butler's diary, passed on for generations. The book is the most valuable possession he has and it has always helped him to manage a crisis, an unknown situation in the best possible was. He never lets chance take over.

There is no routine for what is happening inside his bedroom at the moment, he cannot consult a book, has no guidelines that can help him. She had been here before, nursed him back to health when he had suffered his attack and the Spanish flu. Everyone expected her to care for him, no one questioned her stay in his room then.

But right now? Charles sits down on the edge of his bed, across from her. There is hardly room for his long legs and inevitably his knees touch hers. A shy smile crosses her lips when their legs try to find a place in the narrowness of his room. After several tries, Charles surrenders, lets his thigh rest against her knee. One of her hands reaches out and touches his leg affectionately as if to say that everything's fine. She is not offended, does not feel cornered by the unfamiliar closeness.

He wanted to talk, to find out what this is between them, how they should go on after tonight. The problem is that he cannot find the words to say out loud what is on his mind.

_Thank you for being here. Thank you for never giving up on me._

Instead he focuses his gaze on a spot somewhere close to her right shoulder, not her face, not her chest, not her hands. He is not able to bring up the courage he had minutes ago, seems to have spent it all the moment they have kissed. There is nothing left.

Charles clears his throat, tries to speak. The silence between them becomes unbearable, the tension palpable. Never has this been a problem for them, both could sit over a glass of wine or a cup of tea without speaking a single word for an hour or two.

_I've known this for so long. That I love you more than a friend should._

His mind cannot stop forming sentences like that. But his tongue won't cooperate. It refuses to utter these sentiments. "Is this possible?" His hand points at her knee against his thigh, his gaze cautiously moves upwards towards her face and he looks into her eyes once more. "Can we do this?" His lips barely move so afraid is he to say these words. He does not want to reject her, ignore what has happened. On the contrary. But Charles is afraid, like a child that has done something his parents had not allowed.

###

She can feel his confusion, is it palpable in the silence between them. Elsie knows that the kiss was something spontaneous, only possible because there is a gap in the wall they have built around their hearts for years. She wants to widen that small opening, make it crumble, tear it down completely. But she waits, impatiently, for him to take the next step, knows that he has to be the one to open the door to his heart further or else it will shut again, perhaps forever.

When he does, the words that Elsie hears are not the ones he has uttered. The questions he asks are not questions but answer. "Yes." Is her simple reply when he is finally able to look her in the eyes again. "We can do this." To emphasize her point she decides to remove the next stone of the barricade between them. Elsie stands up and takes a seat on the bed next tom him, can feel how her body sinks into the soft mattress. They sit close together, their sides touching. He holds his breath for a second, clenches his large hands into fists until she covers them both with her hands.

"We can do this." She repeats, because she believes in them and there is nothing else to say. Other more intimate thoughts cross her mind but it is too early to say them out loud.

_We have been so close for years, And I've always wanted this to happen. I longed to kiss you for so long._

She turns her head a bit, kisses his neck above the starched collar where she can smell the faint remainder of his after-shave. His body next to her tightens a bit at her intimate touch, but then his hands enclose hers, bring them to his lips and kiss them gently. Elsie fights the urge to moan and she cannot resist to rest her head on his shoulder for a brief moment before she gets up, her hands still held by his, faces him once more. They have not talked much, however they both know, have felt it, that they have made the right decision.

"Good night then." Her voice is a whisper yet it feels like she is screaming in the silence of the room.

"Good night." He slowly lets go of her hands while Elsie walks backwards towards the door, only turns around when she has almost reached it.

###

It is impossible to forget the feel of his lips on her own. She touches them with the tip of her index finger, traces their outline. Elsie had not expected any of this to happen, the closeness, the unspoken revelations between then. She is certain Charles knows exactly what she could not say. For once he must have been able to read her mind because he has not turned away from her and her touch. They have turned the grief into a new chance, a start into a different life. Finally.

Elsie is aware of the consequences and problems they will face. Strangely enough she does not care, is not afraid of what people might say. Even losing her job is nothing that can scare her now. After all she has been through, all the things they have dealt with, this kiss seems like the smallest problem they have ever encountered. For now, it is only something that has happened behind a closed door, a secret between them, a moment they will not share with others any time soon. But then nothing in this house stays a secret forever, not amongst the servants. Maybe Lord and Lady Grantham are unaware of the happenings downstairs. It is not the world they have grown up in. They only know its outer shell not the inner mechanisms of gossip and whispered truths and lies.

Elsie stares at the dark ceiling of her attic bedroom, tries to remember the look on his face, one of happiness mixed with shock. And she smiles at the image. He looked so much younger, like the version of Charles Carson that keeps appearing in her dreams. He will keep her company tonight although they are separated by the walls between their rooms. Her hand wanders to her lips once again, proceed to her cheek, move gently over her collarbone and then underneath her blanket where it is warm and wet. She has not done what she is about to do in a long time, has not touched herself for over a year. She remembers the night clearly. The doctor had cleared her, gave her the good news after two long months of painful, nervous waiting. She had been so happy and relieved, had wanted to fall into his arms and tell him that all was well. Still, she had done nothing like that, only secretly listened to his joyful singing. It had been enough to push her over the edge that night.

Now that Elsie knows how one part of his body feels on hers, it does not take long until her breath becomes ragged and her fingers speed up their movement inside her. With the other hand she covers her mouth, moans against it, bites down on her index finger to muffle the cry that threatens to escape. Afterwards she is spent but happy, not frustrated like so many times before. One day they will share this and it will not only be one of her silly dreams but something real.

###

They are both a bit lost for words the next morning. A nod, as small smile, a short "Good Morning," is all they exchange before each of them sits down for breakfast. He does not move his head, steals a glance at her from the corner of his eyes. How does she look, is she smiling, happy, content? Charles does not dare look directly into her face, fears he might blush in front of the entire staff. She does not know what he had done after she had left last night and it is safer if she never knows.

It had been so easy this time. The only image he needed was that smile after their kiss, the one he had initially misinterpreted. But as soon as he had settled down in his bed, alone, with only the darkness as company, all he could think of was this wonderful expression on her face and the fact that it had been him who had caused it. He had felt like this young footman he once was, desperately in love with the head housemaid, at a time long gone, in a different century. Usually he felt bad, guilty even after pleasuring himself. Not this time though because he knew that they might do this together soon.

His reminiscence is abruptly disturbed when Anna enters the servant's hall, her face red from running down the myriads of stairs in a hurry.

"Mr Carson, it's Lady Mary! I need your help!" she gasps, out of breath.

He puts down his teacup, spills half of the content onto the saucer, is out of his chair within a second. He does not even ask what is wrong with the young woman. Before he leaves the servant's hall to run upstairs together with Anna, he casts a glance at Elsie nevertheless. Her eyes are open wide, the face white with shock. She is standing, too, ready to leave with him, help him in any way she can and Charles is sure that whatever has happened, requires the assistance of a woman. But not at the very moment. Anna urges him with pleading eyes to hurry, almost tugs at his sleeve. Something must be terribly wrong and he has to make a quick decision.

He shakes his head slightly, signals her that she won't be needed for now, hopes she understand him, like she did last night. Then he is off, runs as fast as he can up the stairs, behind Anna who is so much quicker. They reach the gallery, push through the baize door into the corridor.

"Anna, what's wrong with her?" Not a single word was spoken on their way up and other than the terrified look on the young lady's maid face, that has alarmed him, he has not a clue what could be so horrible that it frightens Anna so much.

"I can't wake her up."

She opens the door and rushes into the room. A lifeless body lies on the bed, face white, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. She is alive, he thinks, she must be.

"Call for the Doctor! Now!" he shouts, and he forgets all about his own feelings, the excitement he had woken up with this morning.

* * *

TBC

(whoever finds the one million typos: please PM me and I'll see that I eliminate them!)


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N Sorry for the long delay! I know you were asking for a quicker update after I left you with this stupid cliffhanger. Well, here you go. Enjoy reading and please let me know what you think about it. This story has 2, perhaps 3 more chapters before it must come to an end. _

_Characters are not mine but belong to J. Fellowes, ITV, Masterpiece. etc. But the break is too long, the waiting to long. I had to borrow them to play with them for a while._

Changes - Chapter 06

* * *

She is still breathing, faint, but he can feel how her chest rises and falls slowly underneath his hand. He has sent Anna back downstairs with clear instructions, call the Doctor, do not wake Lord and Lady Grantham before Dr Clarkson has arrived. Maybe, Charles knows he is trying to suppress his fears, Lady Mary is all right, just very very tired. No need to alarm her parents who had gone through so much already. They cannot lose another child.

Something wet rolls down his cheek and he wipes it away, like an insect, only notices a second later that he is crying, silently. One deep breath, and another one. He cannot get sentimental, not now. "Milady, please wake up. You must." He whispers urgently. Charles shakes her shoulders lightly, pats her cheeks, checks her breathing again to make sure she is still with him.

"You cannot leave now. You have a son, a young heir to take care of. He needs his mother." More tears threaten to fall and he looks away from Lady Mary's pale face for a moment, notices the glass of water on her nightstand, the white round pills next to it. She has swallowed them, too many of them perhaps? Can a person die by taking too many of these?

"Milady, what are these?" he asks the lifeless body. "Why?" They've all been there for her, the family of course, all the servants, Tom Branson who ahs gone through the same loss. In the last two weeks she had never truly been alone, except during the nights. He was so sure that she would make it through, knew that his Lady Mary was strong, although he had not seen that strength and power on her face since Mr Crawely's death. But he had been so certain that all the support they offered to this young Lady would help. It was all Charles could think of, the only hope he had left, the last bit of optimism, to think, that one day this young woman would smile again, find happiness a second time in her life.

He shakes her shoulders once more, more urgently this time. "You cannot die."

The door is thrown open, Dr Clarkson rushes in, followed by Anna. Charles gets up from the bed immediately. "She has taken these, obviously." He points at the pills, makes his voice sound strong to hide the fear he had felt seconds before.

Clarkson acknowledges this information with a short nod, feels the young woman's pulse, listens to her heartbeat, then examines the medicine Charles had pointed at.

"Can one die because of these?" Anna, her voice small, almost too low to hear it. "Because she's taken them every night now for two weeks. Ever since that day." A sob escapes and she covers her mouth with her hand.

Charles is at her side at once, untypical for him, to care so much for Anna, for any servant in front of another person. He puts an arm around her, gently strokes her shoulder. It helps to distract him from his own panic and fear for a moment.

"Every day you say?" The doctor asks, still examining Lady Mary and Charles wonders what there is to look at for such a long time. Something must be done, measures be taken, anything to save the girl.

"Yes." Anna whispers in response to his question. "She could not sleep."

"What are these doctor?" Although he has an idea about the effect of the pills by what he has heard so far, but he needs a confirmation, an official statement that tells him that there is no need to worry. His hand is still holding Anna's shoulder, too support him rather than to give support now. He feels his knees go weak a bit even before Dr Clarkson has answered his question. Pills, to find sleep. One too many and you never wake up again. But she is still breathing. So there is still a chance?

"Sleeping pills, barbiturates. She must have taken her mother's or got them from a different doctor? I cannot remember ever subscribing them to Lady Grantham." The examination is finished because Clarkson gets up from the bed and puts away his stethoscope. "From what I see, she is sleeping right now. She must have taken a higher dose."

Anna starts to cry again, relieved this time. He withdraws his hand slowly, leaves her alone, walks over to the nightstand and takes the pills – all of them. They are safer with him than with Anna. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mr Carson. She will wake up soon. But this is serious, nevertheless. Please make sure she does not get her hands on more of these."

ooooo

She nervously watches the clock on the mantelpiece. It takes too long for them to come back, no one has any news, not a single person has been up there after they had left the servant's hall in such a hurry.

Elsie has distributed the housemaids tasks differently today, made sure none of them disturbs Lord and Lady Grantham or Lady Edith before they normally wake up. Let them sleep in today. For a while it kept her busy to organise a new routine but now she is anxious to hear what has happened. Not another tragedy! They cannot handle any more. He will break should his precious Lady Mary come to any harm. He will not survive another blow of fate. She bites her lip so fiercely at the thought of it that it splits. Blood, she can taste it, that bitter, metallic flavour, before she feels the pain. A handkerchief is drawn from the sleeve of her dress, mechanically, to wipe the blood away and stop the bleeding.

Why is no one coming downstairs? She looks at the clock again. Thirty minutes have passed. Half an hour of painful waiting. It is too long, she thinks. Whatever had happened must be serious or else he would be downstairs again by now. Elsie cannot wait nay longer, opens the door of her sitting room and storms out into the corridor towards the stairs. She collides with him a second later, runs into his large frame and stumbles backwards, can luckily grab the railing to keep her from falling down. She is breathless for a moment, out of shock, the impact of their collision, it is hard to tell. Her gaze is fixed on his face and she tries to read it.

"Is she…?" Elsie starts, but stops when she notices the small put on smile on his face and the hand that reaches out to take her by the elbow. He leads her away from the stairs.

"No. She isn't." The voice is low, but shakes, a deep breath in, and out again. "Can we go…?"

His grip on her elbow is a bit painful now, as if he tries to hold himself upright. She finishes the sentence for him. "… to my sitting room? Of course." Together they make it across the corridor and into the safety of her room. Once inside he lets go of her arm, sits down on the chair, his usual place, at the small table, clearly relieved to be off his feet. Elsie closes the door carefully behind them and starts towards her chair but does not get very far.

His whole body is shaking; from sobs she cannot hear only see and feel. He has buried his head inside his hands and cries. This strong man has broken down in front of her. He had never have allowed this to happen before. Elsie wants to say "finally" but knows how difficult and humiliating it must be for him to display his emotions so freely in front of her. Another piece of their wall has crumbled.

"But she isn't…?" she asks gently, not able to say the word out loud, and she kneels down in front of him, takes his hands away from his face carefully. He can trust her, and she needs him to realize that, especially after last night. "Lady Mary is alive?" Elsie asks again.

"Yes." His eyes are read and full of tears. "Ye she is alive." Her fingers wipe away some of the tears from his cheeks before she leans ins and kisses him softly. Once, twice, the third kiss is returned by him. She feels how his mouth opens, and she accepts the invitation gladly. This is still new for them and Elsie is not sure whether she has overstepped a boundary by kissing him like that when someone can burst into her room any minute. But then, she wants to comfort him. Not just with words and a brief touch, a smile and a cup of tea. Last night has changed things between them and although they have not talked about it, she feels reassured that this, these kisses, are the right thing to do now.  
"Thank you", he mumbles when they part to draw breath. "For everything."

ooooo

"What made her do that?"

They are sitting at the table together, her chair is closer to his than is their usual habit. She wants to hold his hand now, feel his leg nect to her. But they still sit far enough away from each other to give the impression that nothing has changed between them should some unexpected visitor open the door.

"Anna said she had nightmares and would wake up during the night so often she couldn't fall asleep again after a while." His thumb brushes over her knuckles in a calming, repetitive motion.

"So she took her Ladyship's pills?" Elsie cannot believe it.

He withdraws the box with the pills from the pocket of his waistcoat. "I took them. How can we destroy them? I don't want her to..." he chokes.

"Give them to me. I know a safe place and Lady Mary will not come here looking for them." They are something vile, evil, she thinks. These tiny white things can destroy lives, the plural, yes, because it would not only have been Lady Mary's life. She has a son now she needs to think about, parents, a sister, a grandmother. And then there is him of course, the man sitting in front of her with the still slightly swollen eyes, red from the tears. The ever so strong and rigid butler, who has cried in front of her, is still lost for words, has opened his soul for her. Lady Mary has broken his heart and Elsie is angry, furious about such a thoughtless behaviour. But she also feels sorry for the young Lady. Maybe she would have done the same had he died, this man she has spent the last twenty years of her life with. But compared to the young Lady, Elsie has nothing to lose, no one who would mourn or miss her.

"Is Anna still with her?"

He nods.

"Did someone inform Lord and Lady Grantham?"

He shakes his head, looks up from her hand he is holding. "I forgot. Breakfast." Charles is on his feet in an instant.

"Let Thomas do the work. You need to rest." She tries to push him back down into the chair again, unsuccessfully.

"After my duties are done." There it is again, the façade he cannot let go of when he is outside of his pantry, her sitting room, his bedroom. She lets out a sigh, not because she is frustrated, angry or irritated by his behaviour. But she is hurt a bit that he does not listen to her, so she turns her face away from him.

"Elsie." The softness of his voice touches her deeply. There is still a crack in their wall, wide enough for him to step through it. "I promise." He seals this with a gentle kiss placed on her forehead, so intimate it almost makes her cry.

* * *

_(tbc of course)_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N Update 2 within one week :) because you asked so nicely. And because the sun was shining and I had a nice muse. Next chapter will probably be a time jump because we cannot look at every single day of their lifes for the rest of the story :). Enjoy reading!_

Changes - Chapter 07

* * *

"And you are sure she is fine now?" he asks in a hushed voice, careful not to draw attention to them.

"Anna talked to her, her mother was with her all day, she'll be fine Charles." His first name rolls off her tongue easily, or so it seems to him, and as much as he likes to hear it after so many years of only being addressed as 'Carson' or 'Mr Carson', this is not the right place for her to use it. They are in front of the backdoor. She is leaning against the coat rack; he is almost on eye level with her because she is standing the first step that leads out of the house and it elevates her. Instinctively he puts a finger on his lips, indicating that she should be quiet, and not use his name again when they are not inside one of their respective rooms. Elsie only smiles at him, takes his hand away from his face and places a kiss on his lips, very gently and brief. All he can think of is that she is exposing them and he pulls back immediately, does not indulge in the moment. He cannot be relaxed and calm out here where others might see them, he is not ready for this yet and does not know if he ever will be. A public display of emotions is difficult enough for him. But for others to see this happening between housekeeper and butler is scandalous.

Charles is aware of the changes in their relationship and he wants them, has longed for this to happen. But he needs time to adapt, to understand _them. _It requires all his self-control to step away from Elsie and he can perceives her confusion and hurt instantly.

"I am sorry." Is all he says, hopes it is enough for now. He will have to explain his reaction later (when they go upstairs to bed).

Elsie looks down at her feet, lets her arms hang at her sides, almost defeated.

"No one's here. We are alone, Charles."

He tries not to flinch at the sound of his name.

"They are all in bed, you know that."

Does he? Thomas went up a few minutes ago after locking up the front doors and returning the keys to him. Jimmy and Alfred left right after dinner. She has sent Anna and Mr Bates to the cottage thirty minutes ago. He clears his throat, lets his hand brush her fingers tentatively, then touches the fabric of her skirt and finally his hand rests on her waist, feels the warm, curvy body underneath it.

"I would feel better if we'd go into my pantry. We can talk there if you like."

Her eyes slowly travel upwards, reach his and a small smile returns to her lips.

ooo

"You can trust me, Charles."

He has closed the door behind them and for the first time tonight he enjoys how she pronounces his name. But he still feels a bit uneasy about the small kiss, because it has been too much, too fast. At least for his liking. Charles cannot yet grasp the fact that this has all happened within the last few days when he had waited twenty years for this moment to come (and had almost given up all hope).

"Charles?"

He still has his back turned to her, closes his eyes, and takes a deep, fortifying breath before he looks at her. What he sees on her face is a mixture between uncertainty and confusion, paired with a bit of anger he can make out in her blue eyes. No one else might notice that, but he knows her too well to mistake the sparkle as fear.

"I'm sorry Elsie. I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just…", he sighs. "I'm not yet ready for this." His hand points at the door, indicates that he means _being seen by others_, not their new relationship level. Not, most assuredly not that. Slowly the anger disappears from her face, she steps closer, takes his hands into hers.

"Trust me. Please. I would never risk this, us." One more step and he thinks he knows what she wants him to do. His arms encircle her waist, move around her body and draw her as close to him as possible. They give each other comfort and he feels how the muscles in his back relax, feels her warm breath on his chest, her hair tickles his nose. He can smell a faint hint of something that is unmistakably Elsie. One cheek presses into her soft hair while his hands roam her back, feel the body underneath the countless layers of her dress, shift, and corset. After this morning's shock, the busy day, the many tasks entrusted to his care (on top of everything else he is already in charge of), her embrace is like coming home. He had promised her to take a break. But that had only lasted a couple of minutes after they had their luncheon. And she knows that it had all been too strenuous, probably watched him all day again, unbeknownst to him, waited for this one moment to finally calm him down.

"Thank you." He breathes into her hair. "Yet again."

"You are more than welcome." She murmurs. "Always."

ooo

They do not move from the spot. Faces pressed into her hair, his chest. Hands gently stroke backs and parts of their exposed necks. Being held like this is new, special, and so comfortable. Elsie lets her hands wander underneath his tails, her fingers slip below his waistcoat. The starched white shirt feels unfamiliar, strange but not unwelcome. It is nice to have him so close, to know that he allows her to touch him, does not back away. At least not when they are truly alone, without fear of being interrupted or found out. Strange, how tragedy and loss turned their relationship into something wonderful, long sought after and longed for.

Elsie inhales his scent, has her eyes closed and lets her heart take control of this moment. A melody is on her lips. She starts humming the familiar tune into his chest, feels how he laughs quietly before he joins in.

"If you were the only girl in the world…" His voice is low, as close to a whisper as he is able to while singing. She continues humming and they slowly sway back and forth to the music they have created. A perfect moment of solitude after another day of unsettling events. The world they know slowly slips away from under their hands, unstoppable. Yet in their newly found closeness this does not matter. It is their refuge, Elsie realizes, the end of a long search. Home.

The chiming of a clock interrupts their dancing after a while. One o'clock, past midnight. Too late for both of them to still be up. Reluctantly Elsie lifts her head to look at him. What she wants, hopes, to see is a smile on his face that tells her _time does not matter. _She is rewarded with something different and much better. He kisses her once more, unexpectedly. Elsie has not turned her head fast enough and their noses bump together before they both find the perfect position for one last good night kiss that goes beyond the ones they have shared so far.

Her hands move upwards underneath his waistcoat as far as possible. He starts to loosen the buttons at the neck of her dress, his fingers caress the skin there. She moans into his mouth, bites on his bottom lip and in return slips her hands under the waistband of his trousers. Too many layers of clothing, she thinks and suddenly this realization shocks her. She has never gone that far in her dreams, never allowed herself to even think of him like that: undressed, naked. Not once did she try to imagine what he would look like, without the stiff black and white uniform. Of course there were expectations: how would it feel to kiss him? What would it be like to be embraced by his strong arms, her face resting on his chest? A single touch, an open smile had always been enough to give her pleasant dreams. She had been content with that. This right now exceeds her dreams by far and while she thinks about it, an unknown uneasiness and shyness overcomes her.

Elsie breaks their kiss, lets her hands stop their movements. "Perhaps it is better to say good night now." She mumbles, cannot look him in the yes.

"What's wrong? I didn't mean to hurt you. Did I do something wrong?"

He is so endearing and she risks a glance at his face. "Everything you did was…" she is lost for words. "…was wonderful but…" A sigh, she is unable to go on, too embarrassed to confess that their touches, kisses are a thing she has never experienced like that before. Elsie is the strong one, the worldly person in they eyes of the maids, footmen and kitchen maids. There is not so much that can shock her, throw her off balance. But right now she is standing here, feeling like a young housemaid who has just enjoyed her first kiss, except that she is not in a giddy excited mood.

His fingertips ghost across her cheeks. "…but? We've gone too far, haven't we? I let myself get carried away."

"No. It's not that." She quickly reassures him. They have only been this close for such a short time, however it feels like a lifetime, bar this one thing. "I never thought it would be like this, so overwhelming, so much beyond everything I have wished-for." She says it out loud, the truth, at least some of it: the fact that she has thought of moments like these, of touches, kisses.

He kisses her forehead gently, "Trust me", repeats the words she had spoken earlier. "We will go slowly."

And they share another kiss.

Elsie knows they have come a long way within the last two days and night. It astonishes her how they have overcome their fears and reticence so fast, knocked down wall after wall that have lasted for twenty years. One moment he is the one beset with doubts, the next she is afraid of her own boldness. They complement each other in a different way now; there is a deeper understanding between them where words are not necessarily the ultimate means of communication.

* * *

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N this was supposed to be the last chapter but suddenly I had over 4000 words written and decided to make two chapters. So, another update comes soon! Thanks for all your nice reviews. And PLEASE refrain from reviews that only say "update now" or "update soon" it puts a lot of pressure on me as a writer and does not really help me. I know this sounds ungrateful and I know you want to read new fanfics/chapters but it I need some time to write and concentrate on what I am writing. thank you for your understanding. And thanks to the wonderful kouw for beta-reading this!  
_

* * *

Changes - Chapter 08

"She has agreed to go to Ripon and I will accompany her, and so will Mrs Crawley." Anna's smile brightens up her face and it rapidly spreads, infects everyone around the breakfast table. Even Thomas.

A week has passed between the joyous news and Lady Mary's collapse. Charles tries not to grin too hard, after all he is the head of this household and has to set a good example. Good news is scarce these days, laughter an infrequent visitor in the servant's hall, however he does not want them to overdo it. But for a moment he lets the others sigh with relief, lets them enjoy the first breakfast that does not resemble a funeral banquet. Everyone was tensed up the last few weeks, never knowing whether a new tragic event would occur and destroy their world even further, put the future of Downton at stake and hence their own livelihood as well. They all are desperately longing for good news, positive developments, anything that steers the house back on the old course.

Under the table he feels her hand gently touching his knee, unseen by the others who are too engrossed in lively chatter. He casts her a glance, a smile still on his face. Elsie smiles back, squeezes his knee and winks at him.

"That's good news indeed Anna. Please let me know what you need for this trip. We will discuss the details after breakfast." She talks to the young woman while her hand is still caressing a part of his leg that is too close to the more sensitive regions, and she does not even blush.

Charles has problems keeping a straight face when Anna addresses him next. "We would need the car, Mr Carson, and Mrs Crawley has asked for a picnic basket. Perhaps Alfred can come with us too?"

He needs to take a deep breath before he is able to process her request. From the corner of his eyes he sees how Elsie bites her lip, gleefully even. Thanks to her, he loses his train of thought completely and does not hear Anna repeat her question, notices this only when Elsie's foot gently nudges his calf.

"Erm. Yes. Like Mrs Hughes pointed out, we shall discuss this after breakfast."

ooo

"What were you thinking?" He is in her sitting room shortly after breakfast, has made sure no one requires his help or guidance at the moment. Thomas is busy in the silver cabinet, Alfred and James take care of the breakfast service upstairs. What she has done to him at the table exceeds his wildest imagination, especially after they had talked about such _behaviour _only a week ago and agreed not to hurry things.

She bites her lip again, looks at him with that facial expression he can impossibly resist. But he can also feel her nervousness. It is palpable in the room. They are two people on a journey to a different life and have not yet figured out where the road leads them.

"It just came over me. The good news and all of that… happiness, I think." She shrugs her shoulders. "You know that I didn't do it to embarrass you."

Of course he does and to be honest, he adores how she is standing there before him, eyeing him through her lashes, pretending to be obedient when he knows that she will never be that. Nervous, yes, but during the last week they have learned so many new things about the other that Charles is still overwhelmed in moments like these, fascinated by her face, the way she looks at him, her posture. Her behaviour towards him has changed. Small things, admittedly, but now he is allowed to notice and enjoy them. There is no longer that voice inside his head that tells him to ignore a smile, a touch, a kind word. He has finally accepted their new relationship status and the closeness that comes with it.

"Thank you for that but as much as I enjoyed it, it would be wiser to refrain from it from now on." He softens his voice, steps closer and although the day has only begun for them, he leans down to kiss her lips, to take away the nervousness.

ooo

Anna knocks on the door a few minutes later. Charles sits at the small table next to her desk, an inconspicuous place for him to be while she discusses the day's plans with the young lady's maid. Still Anna cannot hide a surprised smile when she enters the room and it takes Elsie a moment to figure out what has caught the woman's attention. He is sitting there, hands folded on the tabletop, his face as expressionless as always, the perfect butler. It is the way he has changed into that different personality within seconds after their kiss that she notices first, but then, she sees what might have caused Anna to smile. His collar and tie are slightly askew. That is by all means uncommon for him and leaves Elsie a bit uneasy. She has had her eyes and ears open more than ever since that night in his pantry. She makes sure no one can tell that they have opened their hearts to one another, is careful when they are meeting during the day on corridors or in rooms, does not let eyes wander in admiration or stare at him, refrains from touching him in front of others. Except for that spontaneous action at the breakfast table nothing has happened between them that would attract attention. And now Anna has seen this tiny bit of anomaly and she is sure that the girl will figure things out sooner or later.

"Anna, thank you for the wonderful news." Elsie starts the conversation. "We are so glad to hear that Lady Mary is finally feeling better."

Anna nods and smiles.

"Did she say why she wants to go to Ripon?" Charles interjects.

"I suggested it last night when we were talking about my next half day Mr Carson. She wanted to know what my plans were and I told her, a trip to Ripon would be nice."

"As long as she wants to go it does not matter why or where, Mr Carson." Elsie chides him, though her voice is gentle. She has to keep up appearances now.

"I see, well it seems that this discussion is better held without me then." He stands up, ready to leave the room but Anna stops him.

"She also said she is doing it because of you."

Elsie looks at the two of them, how Charles is lost for an answer and Anna smiles affectionately up at him. They both care for this woman so much, as a surrogate father and sister. Anna has spent her nights in Lady Mary's bedroom after the woman has received the shocking news that has changed her life forever, has slept on an uncomfortable chair instead of sharing a bed with her husband. Both, Charles and the young lady's maid, are so close to Lady Mary in a way she never understood before that accident. Slowly, with every day that passes, with every night she spends with Charles, talking, enjoying each other's company, she learns about the eldest daughter, sympathies develop, understanding dawns when he talks about Lady Mary as if she was his child. The _precious little minx _becomes a vulnerable, lonely person suddenly.

"Because of me?" She hears him ask confused. "But what have I done?"

Everything, she thinks. "You were there, remember? Every day since the day she was born." And although Anna is still in the room, Elsie touches his arm tenderly and the lady's maid nods in agreement.

"Mrs Hughes is right. I know that Lady Mary would never admit it, but you've helped her a lot, Mr Carson." Anna also reaches out to touch him and Elsie is proud of both of them. Despite their own worries they have both taken care of someone who is not family by blood, have done more than was expected of them and their jobs.

ooo

Alfred is sent with them although Mrs Crawley protests vehemently. In the end, Anna can persuade her that it would be helpful to have the footman accompanying them. Charles ascertains all is perfect, from the impeccably polished car to the exquisite picnic basket Mrs Patmore has prepared. He fusses over everything and Elsie notices the relief on Lady Mary and Anna's faces when the car finally leaves for the town and the butler is no longer in control of things.

Throughout the day he is terribly nervous and anxious so Elsie decides to leave him alone until the party returns from the outing in Ripon. When they do, Charles is at their side immediately and makes sure they are all back home safely, with happy faces, laughing and joking. Nothing out of the ordinary has occurred Anna assures him and Lady Mary enjoyed the day immensely. Elsie can literally see how the stress of the last hours leaves his body but she waits until the halls are quiet before she knocks on the door of his pantry. It is past ten in the evening and their day has come to an end. What remains is their evening routine, a small glass of sherry, a bit of conversation and hopefully a few kisses.

"Did they enjoy the trip?" He looks up from the account book he is working on, offers her a smile.

"Very much, or so Anna let me know." The book is closed and he rubs his fingers across his eyes to fight the tiredness.

"I am glad to hear it." Carefully she shuts the door, it clicks softly, causing him to look in her direction again as if he has not really seen her standing there before. "It is good that she took this risk today, left the house, has been out with friends, isn't it."

He nods and keeps staring at her, eyes glistening in the soft yellow light of his desk lamp. Elsie moves forward to his desk, closes the distance between them slowly. He looks exhausted, despite the faint smile. Worry has caused new lines to appear on his face, around the mouth, eyes and on his forehead. She stands directly next to him now, can see so many emotions battling with each other in his expression all at once. Elsie wants him to stand up now and allow her to kiss at least the worries away for a moment. But he seems unable to move.

"She's been so strong." His voice falters all of a sudden and his cheeks are wet from the tears that he can no longer hold back. He has put on a brave face all day and she has not seen it, had stayed away from him, tried to give him room to breathe, to enjoy the happiness Lady Mary's decision has set free in all of them. Elsie bends down, wipes away some of the tears with the tip of her finger, kisses his forehead lovingly.

"Let me be strong for you now", she offers and finally he stands up, buries his face in her hair, cries silent tears of relief.

ooo

She is a blessing, his saviour, a soulmate, everything he has always believed was only an invention of brilliant novelists, terms these writers came up with to describe the impossible closeness between two people. But no other words can describe how he feels right now, about her, about them. All day he tries to figure out what this strange ache inside his chest means, fears it might be another attack, a medical condition he is unable to control. He manages to get through the preparations for the day in Ripon and the stress that came along with it without letting her know. At times the ache disappears but as soon as Elsie is near it always returns, scares him, makes him long for the evening and an undisturbed moment alone with her. Only now, when he is finally allowed to be himself, does her understand what has happened to him. He is in love with this woman.

Her hands soothingly stroke his back, her voice whispers beautiful words into his ear.

"I love you", he murmurs. "I love you, Elsie." She stops her movements, her head tilts back to look at him with those wonderful blue eyes.

"Say it again." She asks breathless.

"I love you." Her mouth is slightly open, an invitation. So he lowers his head, kisses her nose, then her upper lip, the bottom lip, closes her mouth with his own. Their tongues duel in a fight that can never be won by either of them. A warmth spreads through his body when she opens her mouth wider, bites his lips playfully licks at the wound with her tongue. They cannot stop, take short breaths, start again, hungrily, kiss over and over again. Time seems to stand still; the worries and fears are forgotten. It is only the two of them now.

"I love you too." Her voice is hoarse, excited, deep and the most beautiful melody in his ears.

ooo

Their embrace heals their souls, the words mend their hearts. Elsie does not want to let him go, refuses to leave him tonight. She wants to stay here, in his arms, wants to hold him, kiss him, be with his man forever.

A familiar sound penetrates the quietness of the servant's hall suddenly. The bell rings another time, calls for them, expects them to answer. The spell is broken. They are reminded of where and who they are.

"Who's that?" His hands leave her back, end the wonderful warm embrace. He has never been able to ignore a ringing bell although he has changed, she knows this all to well, and still the sense of duty is also him, just a different part of his personality.

"We should answer that." Elsie is about to protest but instead of leaving her behind, he kisses her cheek gently, takes her hand and they enter the servant's hall together, study the bell board with the single moving bell. Lady Mary's bedroom.

"I must go upstairs." There is a change in his voice again, in his eyes that restlessly study the room, her face, the bells. Worry takes over, the one she has tried to kiss away.

"We will both go." She lets her fingers entwine with his. Together they climb the stairs, hand in hand, silently. Not a word is spoken but Elsie does not need him to talk because she knows what is going on in his mind at the moment. His shoulders are drawn back, his body tense. The relaxed atmosphere is substituted by the same anxiousness that has dominated their days since Mr Crawley's death. She does not want him to suffer anymore, is afraid of what they will find in Lady Mary's bedroom.

"I'm sure everything's fine." She wants it to be fine because he will not be able to handle another tragic event. Fear and worries have been part of their everyday life for long enough now. The optimism is difficult to keep up but Elsie needs to show him that she is on his side, will always be his safe haven, no matter what happens around them.

He stops in front of the door to the bedroom, has heard her words. In the darkness she sees how Charles closes his eyes, takes a deep breath before he knocks. "Thank you Elsie." He whispers before the door is opened from the inside.

"Carson. I am so glad you're still up." Lady Mary stands in the room, little George in her arms, a dressing gown over her nightdress. She smiles at him, no, at them, Elsie realizes. She lets go of Charles' hand immediately, straightens her back, tries to conceal that she has been too close to him than is proper amongst servants.

He clears his throat, a bit embarrassed, but the young woman ignores it, addresses her suddenly. "And don't worry Mrs Hughes, I won't say a word." That certainly comes as a surprise.

* * *

TBC

(this was supposed to be the last chapter but then I realized: it is VERY long. So I split it and you will have another update tomorrow or even tonight. Depending on how long it takes me to write the last scene)


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N Two updates within 24 hours! But this is the last chapter :(. Don't be sad. It is T rated. Enjoy reading. And thank you for your beta-ing kouw! love you! _

Changes - Chapter 09

* * *

"I don't understand milady, why are we here? Has something happened? Are you alright?" The situation demands too much of him. She has rung and he is here now, waiting for her orders, an explanation, anything. But she only smiles, not even surprised to see Elsie at his side.

"Nothing is wrong Carson. On the contrary. I wanted to thank you in person." She closes the open door behind them, startles him by doing so. It is his job to take care of this but he is still speechless, confused. "For everything you have done."

He can feel how Elsie puts her hand on the small of his back, pushes him forward, encourages him to speak.

"To be honest, I haven't done anything but I am happy you are feeling better." What else should he say? Of course he has cared for this woman, every day of her life, from her birth to the birth of her own son. Has seen her through difficult times during her teenage years, even more complicated times when Mr Crawley appeared for the first time. He knows the ups and downs of Lady Mary's life better than everyone else in this house. But that is his duty as an employee of the Earl of Grantham.

"Oh Carson, you've done so much! Mrs Hughes, please tell him, I'm sure you know what I mean."

He looks at her, studies her face, sees that she too is unsure what to say. Hesitantly she opens her mouth, closes it again, shrugs her shoulders before she tries her best to end the awkward silence.

"You know milady, he has only done what he thought was best for you, and the house of course. I think he admires you and your strength a lot."

The smile on Lady Mary's face widens, so Elsie continues and he holds his breath. "Mr Carson, you have been at this young Lady's side all her life long. And you have never doubted a single one of her decisions." He stares at her now, cannot believe what he hears. Elsie Hughes does not criticise the relationship he has with the eldest daughter of the house anymore?

"You love me like a daughter Carson, and Mrs Hughes is right, you were and are always on my side. No one else has done that for me." She takes a step towards him, touches his shoulder and then places a kiss on his cheek. "Don't get jealous Mrs Hughes."

This almost throws him off balance and it must have shown on his face, because Elsie is at his side within seconds, grabs his arm to steady him, worry written all over her face. "Everything alright Mr Carson?"

He is unsure in which direction he should look. At Lady Mary or at the woman by his side. "Thank you milady. That means a lot to me." Someone that sounds like him manages to say. "You are not angry?"

Elsie lets go of his arm but stays close. He can feel how her hip brushes his side, her hand is close to his but not touching it. Maybe there is no use in still pretending to be only butler and housekeeper, but since they have come into this room, so many things have happened all at once that he is afraid to let down his guard completely.

"Why should I be angry? Because you have at last found the courage to court Mrs Hughes?" The baby on her arm begins to stir and she places a soft kiss on his forehead, whispers soothing words only a mother understands. "When I found out about it, this gave me hope. So much hope, that no matter where one lives and what one does, there will always be love. I will find someone, not right away, maybe not in the next few years. But I won't stay alone. In fact, I am not alone right now."

He feels how Elsie's hand encloses his own, that she has come closer, is now fully touching his side. Gone is the fear of exposing their secret too early in front of the wrong people. In this room they all know about it now, can be open about their feelings and do not have to hide behind the facades they've created over the years to protect their souls from getting hurt. "I give you my blessings. And don't worry about Papa, or Granny!"

Charles has problems keeping his emotions under control. There is so much he wants to say, so many words in his mind he needs to speak out loud. The situation is too overwhelming. At his side is the woman he loves, in front of him stands the daughter he never had but always wanted to have. Both are the most important people in his life and Elsie as well as Lady Mary have won his heart since the day he first saw them.

"Do you want to hold him?" Lady Mary asks and before he knows it, little George is in his arms, snuggles into his chest with a content sigh, not afraid of the strange tall man. Charles gently strokes his little head, lets the boy hold on to his finger. "He already knows that you will protect him", his mother says and he knows that she is right.

ooo

They are standing at the entrance to the women's corridor. It is dark and quiet. Occasionally the house creaks and moans, all the wood and stone, hundreds of years old comes alive at night sometimes. Behind one of the doors, Mrs Patmore snores. The other servants are silent. He is still holding her hand tightly in his own, does not want to let her go and Elsie is reluctant to send him to his room across the corridor through the door that separates them at night. She wants him to stay here with her, needs his company tonight after all the unexpected revelations of the last hour. Yet it would break the last rule; remove the last of the scattered stones that are still part of the wall between them: that last protective barrier separates them because it is built of moralities. They are not married, cannot share a bed, should not even be in a bedroom alone with the other. But does all of this still matter?

Slowly she turns, faces him, looks into his eyes, tries to find an answer in them, some guidance, a sign that at least for tonight he does not care about propriety. He looks straight ahead, into the darkness, gaze fixed at some distant point. Elsie whispers his name, is desperately waiting for an answer. Her other hand moves up to touch his chest, feels his heart beating underneath his shirt. She rests her ear against it too, listens to the soothing sound, mutters his name a second time.

"We cannot stay here all night." His words startle her, interrupt the constant beat of his heart. "Would you…?" She raises her head, focuses on his lips, wants them to finish the sentence. "…allow me to accompany you to your room?"

Instead of answering his question, Elsie begins to move, feels how he follows close behind, his hand in hers. Slowly, silently, as if they are trespassing through a part of the house they have no right to be in. Her room is closest to the dividing door and unlike the others, locked during the day. She fumbles with the keys at her hip, has problems finding the right one in the darkness, is nervous and also a bit giddy, like a young housemaid who hides a secret admirer. When his large hand reaches out to cover hers, take the key ring from her, Elsie holds her breath.

"Which one is it?"

"The small one with the round head." She can see it in the dimly lit corridor now but is too anxious to handle the small object. Charles opens the door quickly and they step inside, lock the door behind them.

Elsie turns in his arms, nestles against him as close as she can. She feels his hands move upwards from the small of her back to her shoulder blades, drawing her into a tight embrace. Being held like this calms her nerves, removes the last doubts she has about what they are going to do tonight. She listens to his heartbeat again, strong and steady, a tiny bit faster than earlier.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, breaking the silence, and his breath tickles her ear.

"Yes." She raises her head, stands on tiptoe to be a bit taller. "Yes." Punctuates her answer with a brief kiss and her fingers start to unbutton his collar, remove the tie, free a bit of skin from the constraint of their uniforms. He helps her with the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat, removes his clothes quickly until he stands before her in only his trousers. For a moment, she just looks at him, takes in every tiny detail, the hair on his chest, the little scar above his navel, wonders what has happened. Her fingertips touch it tentatively, then her hand fully touches his skin, marvels at how smooth and warm it is. Charles does not move, just stands there while she explores. Her dreams have not prepared her for this moment, what she sees and feels overwhelms her.

"May I?" His voice vibrates in his chest underneath her hand and Elsie looks up into a smiling face. She nods, wants him to remove her dress now, although her knees are shaking a bit and her heart beats so fast, she is afraid it will stop any moment.

Undressing her is more difficult. So many small buttons and hooks hold her dress together, a shift is worn over her corset and underneath it. The concentration she sees on his face is adorable and makes her laugh.

"It was easier for you, love." He lets go of the lacing of her corset behind her back, cups her face with his hands and kisses her laughing lips. "I wonder how you manage to dress yourself in the mornings at all." How good does it feel to not take this moment so seriously, she thinks. We are both inexperienced and out of practice, a bit nervous. She takes his hands away from her face, brings them to the front where she usually opens and closes this garment.

"Like this." Together they open the hooks, one by one, expose her breasts and chest, still covered by a knee length shift but at least freed from the uncomfortable corset. It is his time to look at her and Elsie closes her eyes, lets him touch her sides, hips, place a kiss on her collarbone. At last one hand comes to rest next to her left breast, the one that has given her so much trouble, the one that bears a scar she never wants to look at. His thumb brushes over the nipple, still covered by the fabric of her shift but it is sensitive enough to react immediately. Elsie bits her lip in an attempt to suppress a moan but is unsuccessful. He touches her again, takes the breast into his hand now.

"Stop, please." She whispers breathless. Her knees are too weak to keep her on her feet, the bed is close, only a few steps away. "Need to sit down." She clarifies when she sees the confused look on his face.

"I didn't want to scare you." He leads her over to the bed, helps her to take a seat, puts an arm around her shoulders and draws her close. "Forgive me?"

"You didn't scare me." Elsie rests her head in the crook of his neck, her cheek touching a naked shoulder. "It was just so … ", Finding the right words is difficult, if there even is a word for how she feels. "… overwhelming. No one has touched me like that before."

"Then I feel honoured to be the first."

ooo

That night they see each other naked for the first time, bodies are explored with kisses, touches. Hands and mouths are everywhere; do not care about propriety, their social status, the next morning, what others may think of them should they find out. She is the most beautiful being in his eyes. He is the most perfect man she has ever seen. Their tongues whisper endearing words into ears, kiss a mouth, a breast, the inside of a thigh. Fingers feel soft skin that has never been touched by another person. He lies next to her in the small bed. Her naked legs are entangled with his, arms have found a way around waists and although they are both aware of the others arousal, they take things slow, can hold back somehow. It is more important that they are together and no longer afraid of their own emotions. The walls no longer exist.

* * *

The ... End


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